


Iridescent

by Igknight (Minatu)



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minatu/pseuds/Igknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“People only do things for one of two reasons. The first is if they want something in return. And the second is if they feel like they owe you something.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iridescent

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I've been writing this for over a year and it's finally finished...

"It's alright," I told myself as I pulled my body back up from the cold, hard concrete. I had said this many times, trying to keep the belief in those words strong and safe within my heart.

I was _weak._

And yet, I always did my best to convince myself that I was not. I wasn’t _breakable_. I often told myself this repeatedly, sometimes in a rage I would say those words quietly, over and over again. My anger was a quiet thing, a powerful thing. I was bonded to my anger, sometimes I wore it like armor and believed that it protected me.

" _A healthy body is a healthy mind,_ " someone I once respected had told me often. Someone I looked up to to some insurmountable degree. My mother... _Jeanine_. I loved her so much, and believed in every word that slipped from her lips until the change.

Then... that altering in her character, her _interests_. It was so sudden that it was illogical to have been possible to have even occurred without the help of some new, outside resource.

Around the same time, the Abnegation articles began to appear, like the little, ugly buds that grew from the pots in my room. I was a little disgusted by the overwhelmingly infantile tactics of the Erudites. Usually, our faction was much more insidious with the application of such matters, but perhaps that was what the new, perplexing Mother - _no_ , Jeanine - that was still a little obscure in intention. I no longer knew who she was, and that was a troubling thing to swallow.

Once, I may have believed confronting  _Jeanine_ on this would have been the best approach, but I knew better than to think such a foolish things when I saw the severe look that had taken over her face when she gazed at me. I could tell, quite well, from the look in her cool eyes that my opinion being openly expressed would only result in a detrimental rebuttal from her. So I withheld these concerns, locking them away and immersing myself in the simpler pleasures of learning.

These actions of mine led to something very interesting, I have concluded. Though not fully aware of how much time had passed, I was sure that it had been at least a couple weeks. I knew very well that the initiates had grown into finer things under their instructors’ careful guidance, their thirst for knowledge not even slaked anymore, nor could it ever be again, I believe. That thirst would even create holes in their hearts that would one day consume them; such was the fate of an Erudite.

It was my lack of interest in the outside world that caused me to meet Peter, who was the very interesting event I mentioned before. I had refused to care about politics due to the apparent frivolous turn it had taken very suddenly, and I barely noticed when the Dauntless began filling the halls. It was not my priority to know this information. Again, I was disobeying the Erudite manifesto, which I studied when I was an initiate. I had studied all of the faction manifestos carefully, pouring over every little detail at the time. It had all been so very interesting at the time. The _similarities_ , the _differences_. They held such a note of curiosity to me then.

Peter, strangely enough, was the one who pulled me out of my idleness. He immediately struck me as a queer individual from the moment I first saw him in the Erudite headquarters. His eyes would dilate as he quietly attempted to assess which surrounded him, often squaring his jaw and shoulders to look tough before his superiors. To me, he did not always seem to mindlessly agree with everything that was often discussed, _instead_ , he was often looking after his own tail. He was visibly a smart boy as well as witty.

Slowly, very carefully, I began to make my presence known to him. I was not a carbon copy of my mother, but I was sure from the first time I caught his dark green eyes, he could see the startling similarities between Jeanine and I. Few, besides the Erudite, were aware that I existed. Once, I liked to believe that I was Jeanine’s pride and joy, but that feeling had long since faded, ever since the factions began to intermingle.

I was an invisible thing, not even meant to exist. In some ways, I was a mistake. That was what I became in Jeanine’s eyes, and I hadn’t realized it before Peter, and I wasn’t sure why. I was usually perceptive when it came to these things, but this one had escaped me. In my vanity, I had not realized the true extent of my own mother’s distaste for me. It was awfully embarrassing.

Holding his eyes for a long moment, until he looked away - possibly embarrassed, I believed - having held my attention for so long. I felt that was enough for a single day, but my curiosity was no where near quenched. At the very least, it only made me yearn for more information.

“May I borrow a Dauntless for a bit?” I asked softly to the one that seemed to be in charge. Peter was nearby, and I met his eyes, only for a moment.

“What for?” the man asked in a bitter tone. He obviously distrusted me. I smiled ever so slightly as to avoid looking severe.

“I just need someone to make himself useful.”

It took a despairingly long time to finally pull Peter away from his seemingly intrinsic duties. At a closer observation, I saw that his shoulders were slumped, not in a wholly obvious manner. At a distance, it appeared that his countenance was confident, which was only average of the Dauntless.

“What is your name?” I asked in a soft voice. Peter had seemed surprised by the tone of my voice. I was not loud or quick on my toes like most Erudite seemed to be. They were just eager. I, like my mother, believed that a voice did not have to be raised to carry a point. The softness of mine only served to draw people closer and make them listen carefully to my words.

“Peter Hayes,” he responded after a moment, and I smiled, ever so slightly. It was a name that I believed belonged to Candor, but I could very well be wrong.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I am Joan Matthews,” I said carefully, "Peter is a word, you know. A verb, actually. It means to decrease or fade gradually before finally ceasing to be. Interesting, no?" I did not allow him to respond before continuing to question him. I noticed that there was a blue band around his arm and figured I would question it later.

“Are you really a Dauntless?” From the way his eyes narrowed, I figured my question annoyed him. So I laughed, what a neat response. No one had glared at me before.

“You seem different from the archetypal Dauntless,” I mused, not needing the question to be answered verbally. Peter had answered with his body language. I tapped my chin lightly, when a hypothesis came to me, “Are you perhaps bothered by something?”

“Why should I tell you that?” he quipped. Another smile played on my lips. He was very interesting, _indeed_. I stopped pacing then, tucking a golden brown strand of hair behind my ear.

“You answered my question with your question,” I pointed out simply. A surprised look crossed his face as he realized what he had done, but I did not tease him about it. He seemed to expect that sort of thing, for me to hold the piece of information against him. That was not a thing Erudites tended to do though, at least normally. I leaned toward him. I figured I needed to establish trust.

“Then why are you _here_?” I asked simply. Peter seemed to think this over for a long moment. I stared at his face, feeling the slightest nip of impatience at my chest.

“You’re related to Jeanine, aren’t you?” he asked. I didn’t flinch at the question. I had expected it to come up eventually.

“Yes,” I answered quickly with a dismissive wave of my hand. I would not speak any further on the topic. I believed that Peter would understand the action, or perhaps he did not feel the need to press further, as he said nothing more.

.

For the next several days, I spoke to Peter. The more that we did, the more engaging our conversations became. He began to tell me about things that were going on outside, and the veil of ignorance I wore was carefully removed. The girl he mentioned once or twice during our discussions - _Tris_ , I believe - seemed to be an anomaly more than anything else.

“You don’t seem well,” I commented carefully in the soft timbre that I often used. Though I liked to think that the intonation of my voice had become a little more intimate with him. Peter gave me a careful look. He was more pale than usual, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Tris is here,” the nervous quiver in his voice was subtle, almost nonexistent, but I noticed due to the amount I had studied him. I was only becoming more and more positive about the oddity that was Peter. He did not seem quite _Dauntless_ , but perhaps that was merely my own interpretation.

“Hmm... What shall you do?” I inquired, regarding him sedulously. For a long moment, he did not say a word. When he did, his voice was scarcely above a whisper. I assumed this was due to the fact that he often had a particular distaste for admitting things about himself. He wasn't much of a personal person. He preferred using sarcasm, wit and dry humor to deliver his opinions. However, I seemed to slide past that wall at times.

“I owe her,” he told me. I knew what he was thinking. I was finding this more common with each time we met. I sat down slowly, folding my hands in my lap. I sat across from him, our knees just touching. A small smile of encouragement spread across my lips.

“Then do what you feel is right,” I replied. He looked at me in surprise. Color dusted his cheeks, and I nervously tucked my loose hair behind my ear. I knew what my encouraging him entailed. It meant he would be placing himself in more danger than usual, and yet, I felt he would be alright. He had to be.

“I know what you are thinking,” I said simply, seriously. The surprise on his face was a welcome thing to me. I enjoyed that side of him at times. I had seen him act brusque, but I never saw him act this way when we were together. I felt he was much calmer, perhaps even himself. He was strong, but he was also weak. He needed a little push, a little guidance. Carefully, _carefully_ , I would push him to do what would be best for him. I knew what he needed to do, even if he was not fully aware of what he was going to do. He was almost predictable to me at that point, and yet, he was still interesting. He still maintained the same space he had when I first grew curious.

“You don’t think I do, but I really do. I’m smart, remember?” I quirked up a tiny smile. It was the first time I attempted a joke with him, and a surprised snort left him. Dropping my voice to a whisper and leaning close to him, I said, “You’re going to help her escape, aren’t you?”

“You won’t...” he sucked in a deep breath, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Never. You might want to talk to Cara as well,” I said solemnly. He would be leaving the Erudite headquarters, and who knew if I would ever see him again. If I were found out to know about it. I would be executed. I would and could never give him away. He was my precious anomaly. I needed him to live. I was not sure how I would handle losing him if I even could. I was too attached. I had not been fully sated yet. I was not ready to move onto a new concept.

“Thank you,” he responded. Foreign words to both of us. Yet he said them. In that moment, I felt very distressed. I didn’t really want him to go.

"But why Cara?" Peter asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"She will help you. Do not mention me though," I told him with a punctilious tenor. Again, Peter looked confused. Moving without prior thought, I touched Peter's arm gently. He immediately stiffened in reaction. A tiny smile tugged at my lips, "I know more than I should is all." He nodded slightly to me in a nervous way. His mind was probably bubbling with thought. Sometimes I wondered what exactly was happening in his head.

“Oh, and tell me before you leave,” I whispered, ever so softly. The words left my lips in an almost silent breath, “Warn me with just this:” I paused taking in a new breath. His deep green eyes gazed at me for a long time.

“Valediction,” I said, “Tell me that.” In that moment, I stood to leave. Peter did not stop me. I wanted to be alone after that. It was a strange emotion that I harbored in my chest. It made me wonder. What exactly was bothering me so much? I had grown attached, and now I wanted to be detached. At the same time, I believed that he still needed guidance. He was only a little bud, but I believed, when he flowered, he would be a lively thing. Perhaps then my work would be done.

.

My lips were tight with disapproval. Peter was _late._  I sat staring at the door for almost thirty minutes, and it was irritating. I always hated waiting. I remember my father mentioning once, “ _Patience is a virtue_.” Of course he would say that however, he had believed to his terminal breath that he would find a cure for his illness. It was almost humorous, although that did not make his death any less painful for me. He and Jeanine were intelligent individuals, yet they never married each other or really declared me their official child. Thus, I simply _was_ in a most inexplicable manner.

I clenched my fist. _Where was he?_ Then I felt something on the table. It felt like there were grooves in the wood. I looked down, my heart catching. I didn’t want it to be what I thought it might be. Then I heard the door click open. I looked up to see Peter there and relief filled me.

“You’re late,” I deadpanned. He ran a hand through his glistening hair.

“I was escorting _her_ somewhere,” he replied. He had been doing something for Jeanine. I frowned slightly, but did not voice my displeasure. It was best kept to myself. It wasn’t like I could have authority over Jeanine anyhow. We often referred to “Tris” as her in order to be careful. The place that he took her held no importance to me.

“Are you...?” I asked carefully. My chest tightened as I asked the question. Such an obscure feeling. I did not want to give it any influence over me as I did not trust it.

“Not yet,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck. I narrowed my eyes at the movement. There was something he was not telling me. That much was obvious. Again, my chest tightened in a painful manner. I did not like the feeling.

“Are you tired?” I inquired, observing the bags beneath his eyes. He merely shrugged, noncommittally. He sat down across from me, silent. He seemed more wrapped up in himself than usual. I arrived at a conclusion.

“Soon, hmm?” I prodded. His eyes flicked to me. They were apologetic, and it irritated me. I didn’t not want him to look like that with me. He knew better. I frowned, and the look quickly disappeared.

“Don’t die,” I said firmly. It was his turn to look irritable. I glared into his eyes, emotion rising through me.

“Don’t you dare die risking your neck for her,” I affirmed, “Or I will never forgive you.”

“Isn't that what I'm going to do?” he asked suddenly. A heat rose into my cheeks. He was silent for a long moment before something seemed to click in his brain, “You don’t want me to leave?” An emotion I did not understand and had trouble controlling crashed through me, hissing and spitting.

“You're wrong!” I snapped, blatantly lying, and I felt like it was obviously written across my face. He did not flinch at my anger. Instead, he stood, towering over me and crossing his arms across his chest. I then realized how powerless I was before him. Peter could probably kill me with his bare hands if he wanted to. Still, I was upset. Inexplicably so.

“Joan,” he said, firmly. _Quietly_. I froze, my blood running cold. I knew what this was. It weighed me down like a ton of bricks.

“Just promise me you won’t die,” I said without meeting his eyes. It made me feel sick. I wasn’t supposed to feel this emotion. I was supposed to be dedicated to the Erudite manifesto. I was supposed to think this way about someone in my faction at the most. Peter was forbidden. He would have to be petered away. I scoffed internally at the pun.

“I won’t,” he responded. Confidence lit his voice. It was one of the few times I had heard it sound that way. I liked it when he believed in himself. I nodded slightly, then left.

I did not see him the next day. What I had feared seeing in the desk was exactly what I thought it was. Etched into the wood was “Valediction”. He had lied to me, and that burned a hole in my heart, but I did not cry or react in anyway. I was just cold.

“You didn't say goodbye...” With a bitter laugh, I traced the letters, "How ironic."

.

It was frightening how the Erudite headquarters burst into life one morning. Gun shots were fired, the building shook with people beginning to move quickly through the building, running for their lives. I was confused and did not know what to do. That was when he found me. Peter grasped my hands tightly, and he glanced behind himself, nervous. He stared into my eyes, his own tumultuous.

“You have to get out of here,” he urged me. He was holding my hands so tightly that it was just a little bit painful, “They’ll kill you.”

“Why? And who is this ‘they’?” I responded with a raised eyebrow. He immediately looked annoyed. I was naturally curious, asking questions was part of being an Erudite. I was not sure why he was so annoyed by it. He should at the very least understand that.

“This isn’t the time for questions, Joan. Just listen to me, _please_ ,” he urged quickly, releasing me and pushing me toward an exit. I looked at him in confusion. Again he was using a word that did not make sense to be leaving his tongue. I knew he had to be desperate, at the very least.

“Be careful, Peter,” I said before leaving, questions bubbling in my head. I understood that I could not ask them. It hurt to leave him again. I glanced back to see him get punched by another person, who was angry with him for running off. I quickly slipped out of sight, my heart beginning to pound in my chest. I wanted all the confusion to end. It was so overwhelming that I felt like I could barely breathe. I clutched at my chest, tears beginning to roll down my face.

When I made it to the lobby, I found that the situation was worse. Someone immediately shouted “Jeanine!”, pointing at me. It was probably the worst minute of my life as people approached me with guns at the ready. I was not Jeanine. I never would be.

“I am not Jeanine!” I said with a slight intonation of my voice. I was speaking louder than I usually did.

“Then who are you?” the tall, factionless man asked me. I cowered at the harsh sound of his voice. Trembling, I raised the courage to answer, but not before he grabbed me and yelled the question again in my face with vigor, “I said _who are you_!?” Cringing, I closed my eyes and turned away.

“Joan. My name is Joan,” I whispered. He then released me, and I fell onto the concrete tiles.

" _I am alright,"_ I repeated the mantra as if it would protect me from all harm. I pulled myself off of the ground and quickly joined the many other Erudite that were gathered in the lobby. All of them were wide eyed and frightened.

Then they came down the building with Jeanine’s body slung over one shoulder. Horror passed through me, and gasps erupted the room. I clasped a hand over my mouth, stifling the sob that threatened to emerge. She was my mother, and she never wronged me... how could I not still love her? I didn’t think anyone noticed me as I curled into a fetal position, disappearing into the blue sea of Erudite.

It was about that moment when a woman began advocating her unfathomable beliefs loudly before us all. I covered my ears, wanting to drown the world out. I was not successful, however, the screens revealed a sort of truth to us all about our society. A fear of sorts was enveloping me, and I tuned out of reality.

.

“They found out you’re Jeanine’s daughter,” Peter told me, explaining why I was locked in a windowless room in the Erudite headquarters. I silently stared at the ground.

“So I shall be executed then?” I asked him, unable to face him as if he had become reality to me. In that moment, he moved forward. He was controlled by impulse at the time, I believed. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, sloppily and roughly. Frozen, I barely reacted at all to this, but I curled into his embrace, eventually kissing him after a long moment of silence.

“Maybe,” he answered as I panted, out of air. Peter was not winded, however. It expressed the difference in our physical abilities quite clearly.

“That’s illogical,” I sighed, finding no other response in my scattered mind. I was going to have to bring myself to make peace with this fate. It wasn’t like I would be able to escape it. Peter stared at me silently before moving in to hold me again as if I might disappear on him. With his body language, he told me that he did not want me to die. He didn’t want to lose me. The thought brought a certain tightness into my chest.

Without further ado, I pushed Peter away from me, “I want to know what’s beyond here. Outside the walls.” He looked at me in surprise.

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious,” I replied, “It’s a natural disposition.” He still seemed a bit confused as to why I had brought it up. Mostly, Peter just looked like he wanted to kiss me again. I wanted to indulge him, but knew better than to do so.

“So get there. For me,” I said, “Okay?” Peter was silent for a long time, then he simply left without another word. I expected that sort of reaction. He was angry, perhaps he had wanted me to ask him to save me. It was then that I realized I knew very little about Peter despite myself. It was a positively disturbing revelation. I had been lying to myself and deceiving myself into believing that I understood him, but I had only just begun to scratch the surface. I gazed for a long time at the walls that surrounded me.

Eventually I even began to cry. Knowing that one is going to die sooner than one expected is a terrible thing. I would prefer it to come as a shock, like a knife suddenly being jabbed into my stomach when I'm walking along and minding my own business. That sort of death would be so fast that perhaps I wouldn't have the chance to regret or even panic.

When I had calmed to some degree, Peter came to see me one last time. His hand slid over my cheek, caressing the slope of my chin. He said very little, too awkward to say much. His mind was overflowing with other thoughts. Ones that pertained to the escape plan. He was going to leave the city. I was glad that he was going to live.

"Tell me to save you. For once ask me to do something for you," he whispered desperately, embracing me. I gazed sullenly into his murky green eyes. I smiled slightly.

"I would only cause more strife. I heard you were going to get her brother out as well. That's obviously dangerous enough, in my opinion. I don't want you to get hurt on my behalf," I responded quickly in an almost soundless voice. I kept my lips near his ear so that he could continue to hear what I was saying. I felt his fingers tighten their grip on me. I could almost hear the frustration Peter had to be feeling.

“ _Please,_ ” he reasserted, and I smiled bitterly.

“That would be illogical,” I responded, and even though Peter obviously wanted to leave in a fit of anger, yet he did not budge. Instead, he hung tightly onto me, pressing his face in the spot where my shoulder and neck connected. His hair tickled my skin, and I felt terribly small in that moment. I felt the warm, wetness of tears, and I knew Peter was going to respect my wishes regardless of how much he did not want to.

“Peter...” I struggled to speak, pressing my fingers into his hair, “Don't cry for me.” Peter's arms wound themselves around me even more tightly. I worried at my lip as he clung to me in silent sobs.

“I don't...” he choked out, and I squeezed my eyes shut because my heart couldn't take the words I knew he was going to say. My resolve would crumble.

“Peter, please look at me,” I started, struggling with pulling his face up, “Peter...” When our eyes met, I felt so torn. The thoughts only lasted a moment longer as Peter pulled me into a rough, emotional kiss that left me gasping for air. He left my lips to venture downward on my body, and I trembled at the thought. He left dark marks on my skin, gripping my waist tightly. I held tightly onto his hair until he was forced to leave. I almost protested, but I couldn't do that to Peter. I shouldn't have even let him touch me like he had. Not if he was going to the outside... he didn't need me holding him back. I pressed my hands to the glass, gazing into the hall as he left.

I loved him so much.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Fire


End file.
